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In high school, I never participated in any of the silly traditions most of the other guys did. I never gave a girl my letterman jacket or asked her to decorate my locker on game days.
Because there was only one girl I wanted—thisgirl—and for most of high school she wanted nothing to do with me. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self there are better ways to get a girl’s attention than antagonizing her every change you get, but the logic made sense to me at the time.
We were never a real couple in high school.
For a long time, I thought we’d never been a real couple, period.
So every time I see Lennon in my favorite sweatshirt—the one she stole from me when we started officially dating—I experience a satisfying, possessive thrill.
Lennon Matthews has always been hard for me to read. Maybe because I’m twice as desperate to know what she’s thinking as I am with anyone else. The fact she wears an article of clothing with my name on it nearly every day gives me some much-needed reassurance.
I’m in deep with her.
Deeper than I ever imagined being with a girl at just twenty-one. I planned my life out a while ago, centered around baseball. High school, college, pros.
I didn’t factor in dating, much less a serious relationship. But I know, with absolute certainty, that if it ever comes down to choosing between baseball and Lennon, I’d pick her and walk away from the sport.
And that’s…kind of terrifying.
Once we’re both dressed we head down the hallway, past the shut doors to the bedrooms where Luke, Jake, and Colt are passed out. Through the massive kitchen Lennon’s eyes widen at. I carried her in fast asleep when we arrived, so this is the first she’s seeing of the cabin besides our bedroom.
Cool, damp air greets us as we step outside, tinged with the scent of pine and grass. Lennon shivers at the cooler temperature. I pull her into my side as we walk along the dirt path that leads down to the shore of the lake.
I drop my arm once we reach the canoe rack so I can pull a green one down and haul it down to where the water laps against the sandy shore.
I gesture to the front of the boat.
Lennon sighs, shakes her head, and then steps inside the canoe.
“You’re the only person I would do this for,” she tells me.
I chuckle. “Love you too.”
She pauses and glances back at me, a soft small on her face that’s totally different from her reaction the first time I said those words to her, less than a mile from where we are now. This trip feels like a do-over from the one we took as seniors, which is part of why I’m trying to recreate it.
“You good?” I ask, after she’s crawled through the canoe to the front seat.
“Uh-huh.” Lennon settles in the seat and lets her hair out of the messy bun she pulled it back in. The cool morning breeze blows some of the light brown strands off to the right.
I climb into the back seat, pick up a paddle, and shove away from the lake’s shore. The wind picks up as we move away from the sandy stretch, the trees no longer providing any measure of shelter.
Unlike the last time we were on this lake together, there’s barely any mist. I paddle along the shoreline, passing floating docks and the occasional duck. Lennon catches my eye after the first mallard we pass, and we share a bittersweet, secret smile. Aside from that moment, she seems lost in thought.
I know she’s stressed about the future. Aboutourfuture.
Lennon Matthews and I have little in common, at least at first glance. Probably after a second look, too.
We have different families, dream, expectations, and opportunities.
Most of all, I thought that our feelings for each other would never be comparable.
Ever since we got together, I’ve been worried Lennon’s waiting to tell me it isn’t worth it. For her to decide she wants a guy who’s around for more than just a weekend once every couple of months. Who doesn’t spend most of the summer in Georgia and all of the spring traveling around the country to play at different colleges.
“Okay, this isn’t terrible,” Lennon finally admits, twisting around to smile at me.
“Told ya.” I smirk back as I continue to paddle along. “Just wish I’d paid attention to which direction we came from.”
“You had better be joking, Caleb, or I swear this is the last time you’re going to get me in a canoe with you.”
